


chrysanthemums

by cockcrow



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: At one point, Homophobic Language, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:16:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockcrow/pseuds/cockcrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is something akin to a nightmare, it's been lasting for quite a while now. Everything's lopsided and slanted, but I can't bother so I go with the flow: the selected choices from back then, so far back. My eyes will open, and I'll be there again with everything back in its place even if I might not have a proper place of my own anymore. And, I might not even be scared, why? Who knows, I think I'm just like a broken alarm clock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chrysanthemums

**Author's Note:**

> · unbeta'd  
> · weird writing  
> · don't get your hopes up

I wobble, arm tugging and jeering, to the edge. Lewis is so close. The smallest steps that feel like the quickest eternity. Chartreuse are the words I need to say, but they get caught in my throat like as if they're clutching onto me in anticipation of what's coming next. Hobbling, the distance between us shortens, my legs feel like jello, I can sense the energy in the air coursing like the tide, the ocean. Wild, ferocious, pushing, pulling, taking charge, flowing, crashing, dangerous. Tick-tock, tick-tock. It's going to happen again, again, again like a broken record that keeps repeating the same noise over, and over again. Tick-tock, tick-tock. I imagine a metronome ticking away, counting the seconds it will take for the same thing to happen again, again. If only I wasn't so weak, broken, stupid, dumb. If only I can change anything. The annoying ticks of the clock ring through my ears.

The moment, the one that screams the loudest verdigris, sears me from within leaving a gaping hole, void inside of where my heart should be. And I feel like clutching my sides and burrowing my face in Lewis's back and waiting for his reinsurance and kind words. But, I can't, I won't. I don't deserve to, I can't mess this up, I can't ruin this. For him, for her, for them. I will not. I won't, I refuse. I know better, and yet. I yearn and want and need. And, and. It's all for nothing in the end. My hand slices through the tense air like a warm knife to butter and I could taste the cutoff words Lewis barely made, a cloying honey, before he—.

Down, down, a broken shadow. I can't think, see, hear, breathe. Oh god, what did I do. Oh god, oh god, oh god. A smile dances on my lips, whose lips? His descent is like a plucked petal falling to the ground. Oh god, shit. My eyes swirl and shake and my brain turns to mush. A ragdoll, I think. A ragdoll tumbling down stairs until it hits the end. The end: the, the, the– Stalagmites. What's next, what could be next. Next? Jumping, I should jump. My legs that should've worked earlier, confidently stride to the edge. Wait, why am I— But, I get pulled back like a tug-of-war rope, my body buzzes with fear, I know what's next. It isn't pretty. It's not a fairytale with magic, fae, princesses, and happy endings. I try to jerk away despite knowing how futile it is, and I bite the insides of my cheek trying to reel myself in and the metal-tasting blood rushes out. The most guttural scream that bounces off the walls comes from down below.

Down, down, down below where he is, where she is, where the blood is, where the wheezing smell of death drifts. A piercing, keening squall rings out that breaks me down inside like I'm shattering into a million, billion pieces of what I can be, and what I will be, and what I am. Until I'm no more than just vague words and guesses. And then, I'm the ragdoll, tossing and turning and flipping and unresponsive. Body limp, ragdoll, numb, my blood runs cold, and chills that sting my skin floods through my body dying my insides a woeful jade. The swish of fox tails, a faint twinkle of wind chimes, and the hint of mulberries, and lotuses stain my mind. They're on top of me, a demon, a monster, the pain, they're going to- to- to— I'm down on the ground, but my head spins wildly that I can't even remember my own name or the specifics of what's next, the stinging taste of bile builds up in my mouth. Rip, tug, pull. I become undone, unravelling until there's nothing coherent left in me like a present being torn away until all of the wrapping is in shreds. The smell of death swarms me until it's a fog of emotions that I can't move through with its thickness. The tick-tocks stop, and the scorching white pain blooms in shattering elegancy until it's all just a white-hot void that surrounds me with its entirety leaving me with nothing but pain, hurt. I can smell chrysanthemums in the air, and I join in with Vivi's guttural scream and the cave echoes with our cries. And, it all flickers out like a candlelight blown out by the wind.

 

 

The world begins anew. Or becomes redone, or starts up again. It's anything, it doesn't make sense, it's again and again and again. It's infinite, illogical, nothing, everything. It's us. The crescendoing snores jostle me awake, time is running out. How many times have I woken up in this van? Too many times to count. Vivi's and Lewis's snores are like a volcano's eruption: loud, noisy, boisterous. But they give me an odd sense of calm, the calm before the storm. My head is on the wheel, I dozed off earlier, the headlights pooling onto the road like spilt milk. Groggily, I grab the pack of cigarettes—Vivi had confiscated them earlier the road trip claiming that they were bad for me, I pleadingly looked at Lewis but he just traitorously nodded along with her and her unreasonable demands—laying next to them, moving slowly to avoid waking the two up while I get out for a quick breather. Them, the perfect duo, the perfect couple. They always complete each other that helps both of them grow, a healthy relationship.

Vivi always wears her heart on her sleeve: bold, loud, joyous, always raring to go. Lewis never takes his time to say anything. He pours through his head trying to quickly assemble the words jumbled in his mind until it just clicks into something somewhat cohesive and coherent, but they aren't ever just nothing. Every single comment he says always has some significance to it behind it. I silently close the door, Lewis looks like he has the world mapped out in his mind somewhere, and all he needs to do is figure out where it is. He looks like he has all the answers, maybe because of a certain blue girl. It wasn't hard to see that they would get together back then, but it always struck me in a raw space close to my heart. Now, I just watch from afar trying to separate myself since I know nothing good comes from me. I'm a string of jumbled nerves, poisonous thoughts, and misfortune. Lewis and Vivi, Vivi and Lewis. Two lovebirds side-by-side, and the ever unlucky Arthur tagging along despite how useless he is. And our mascot, Mystery. I don't know, I think he knows more than he lets on, but I never gotten a chance to ever see anything completely and absolutely out of place for a dog.

The stingingly cool air finally brings me to complete wakefulness. How much time do I have? Not enough, never enough. I see the wing mirrors on the sides, but I don't go to check what I look like, the image is fresh in my mind still. Near bloodshot eyes, wild bedhair that has my orange hair matted down on one side, a bit of drool on my cheek. I quickly rub it away with my arm. The looming trees almost seem as if they're watching, and I shiver a bit. They'll wake up in a couple of minutes and I feel the urge to run, escape, just go. But, I don't. The result will be the same: I'll wake up. It'll start up again, begin, rewind, and I'll be back where I was. I finger the cigarettes in my pocket and pull one out alongside a lighter, I light it, and… I breathe out. The puffs of smoke coming out like as if it was a freezing winter day. I calm down and relax, or get as comfortable enough as I can considering how I know what was coming. I step back into the van as the wind outside begins blowing harder, harsher.

 

 

The paths break into two and Lewis just abruptly stops, I accidentally crash into his back and a warmth shoots through my spine while I land on the ground. Vivi quickly glances at me and I can see the joy dancing on her lips, that dumb smile that wretches my heart. After a few seconds, Lewis, being the leader of the group, just brightens up a tad and says, “How about I go with Arthur this time? I figure we could switch it up for this one,” my ears burn bright red—thank goodness for the shadows—and I can see Mystery's knowing look, “Vivi can just go with her dog so it'll be evenly split still,” Mystery rose one of his eyebrows in a way that felt like he was somewhat offended at being called a dog.

“I– I'm okay with going with Mystery, it's no problem. You don't need to do that, hahaha,” oh god, I'm babbling, “You two can go ahead together, I bet you both need some alone time right? Mystery and I can handle whatever it is this way. You don't need me to come with you, Lewis, I'm p– perfectly fine with what we normally do.”

I want to sink into the ground like a puddle until I disappear from their eyes. Oh god, I can't believe I said all that, I cringe mentally so they don't pick up on it. My legs start buzzing from embarrassment, and the urge to start sprinting wells up inside me like a clogged sink overflowing.

“Arthur… Is there something wrong, something you're not telling us?” I see Vivi crouching next to me in my peripheral, but I don't dare bring my eyes to her, I can't. Shame showers my brain and it hurts to even breathe, why is everything so complicated.

“No! No, no. There's nothing wrong. I'm perfectly fine,” shut up, shut up, “Maybe, I just need a couple more minutes of sleep. Hahaha, I should head back to the van. I'll wait for you guys to finish up here, seems like one heck of a mystery here for you guys to solve,” kill me, oh my god.

 

 

I'm stepping back in the van and I see Vivi and Lewis already up, I swear I had about two minutes left, they grumble a hello in unison and I wave back slowly, unsure, and not saying anything. My hair's still a mess, and I was planning to fix it into something less of a crow's nest with the gel in the back of the glove compartment, but the time that seems to be missing boggles me a bit so I don't do a thing. They snicker, and I turn my face to them as I do an eye roll to make sure my message was clear. “So, we have about forty minutes until we hit the caves. But, if we turn back, we'll be able to catch the last of the Chopped episode,” I try, in vain, to dissuade the investigation.

“Not a chance, Artie, besides you need to get out more, not stay inside binge-watching seasons and seasons of TV shows,” Vivi answers.

“She's right. You haven't joined our investigations in a while, Arthur. It's good to just get out sometimes, we missed you,” Lewis seamlessly continues.

It's the, “We missed you,” that gets to me. And, I don't put up a fight, but I do put on a pout so it doesn't seem too weird that I resigned just like that. I grip my arm, that arm, the verdigris arm. I can tell that Vivi noticed the lack of the cigarette pack next to them, but she doesn't say anything. Her eyes betray what she feels though, and I don't know what to do, I look down on my lap.

“Hey, do you want to get some more sleep?” Vivi pipes up, “It's okay. We can cover for you, after all, you need your beauty sleep.”

“Vivi's right. You sort of look like zombie with those bags of yours,” seamless, “I'll take the wheel. Come on, you look like you need it, I've been worrying about you lately.”

Mystery, who's in the seat next to me, peers up with something akin to a knowing glint in his eyes, and I look away to the window trying to bore into each of the hundreds of trees, “Sure,” I mumble.

 

 

It's dark, I'm under my sheets staring at the dull light flickering from my phone, and despite my loud claims that I simply don't watch anime, I'm watching anime. It's been two weeks since I've come along with Lewis's and Vivi's investigations. I've just been so tired, exhausted. I just can't find myself wanting to get outside other than to work at the mechanic shop and buy take-out for breakfast, lunch, dinner. I think the lady at the shop memorised my order by heart now. I pause the episode, cover my entire body in my blanket, and shuffle my feet trying to get to the fridge.

Let's see… What's in here. A take-out box, another take-out box, a single opened can of ginger ale, a Tupperware container with something undeterminable and horrific (I mentally make a note to throw all of it away later, even the Tupperware), and a lone slice of Singles cheese. Maybe, I should go grocery shopping soon.

Ding-dong. I lazily stare at the door, who's here? I'm too lazy to make an effort to change so I slowly step towards to door, inch-by-inch, and I peer through the peephole. What the? I wobble back in surprise and nearly fall on my bum, I saw Vivi's ginormous eyeball staring through the hole.

 

 

I first overdosed from drugs five years ago, a  
junior at East Glenn High, (I never could find out what the heck the mascot was, it sort of looked like a beaver, chipmunk, and a hedgehog, and I suspected that none of the staff knew either) a school in the middle of nowhere. While I had been taking my anxiety pills, I was also taking my antidepressants. And the numbness got worse, worse than I ever had felt before. Vivi kissed Lewis so forcefully, and he melted into her lips that made me start simmering inside. I know, I'm the worse. The itch on my wrists burned like a fiery pit of charcoal, and I couldn't focus in English. My backpack (This time, it was a regular black Jansport backpack that smelt normal, thank you very much) yielded nothing when I rummaged through with my hands, grasping nothing but empty candy wrappers and an overdue book that I borrowed last month, I had forgotten to bring my emergency bottle of pills. I ended up skipping sixth period, and raced home.

Hurrying, I nearly slipped and fallen the whole way there, but once I got there I realised I left my keys inside the house when I was hurrying to school earlier the day, and my parents already locked all the doors, there were no emergency backup keys either—a series of robberies happened pretty recently back then, so my Dad just took them from under the potted plant to inside where the rest of the keys sit. My wrists started to itch really badly like a rash, and so I went to the backyard, the backdoor, the dog door.

My family never had a dog, not one relative had a dog at all. But, we had that mysterious dog door, or, well… It wasn't exactly a dog door, it was much too large for one, but I always called it that when I was younger. So, whatever it is, maybe a cousin had one. I opened the flap, and tried to wriggle in, helplessly. I got stuck halfway, and I felt a surge to panic well up. I started kicking about and rolling my shoulders, but and I did all but shout. Until, I just got out. I'm not sure how, but something worked, and I was free. My feet became a hurricane and I sped into the bathroom.

Bathroom cabinet, left-side, third shelf, in a inconspicuous plastic bag, hidden in the corner. Antidepressants and benzodiazepine pills. Shaking like a leaf, I poured almost all the pills into the palm of my hands, and I downed them in one go. I sort of felt tired, and elastic.

 

 

We all step out and change spots, and I'm in the back now and Mystery joins me. I end up leaving the hair gel alone in the compartment, I'm too tired to fix my hair. It'll just repeat again, and again (and again and so on). I wonder if my eyes have bags under their bags, it feels like I've been up for days and days on end. Lewis and Vivi keep looking peppy and energetic as usual.

I stare out of the window as the van starts rumbling again and off we go. Blink, blink. The trees pass by, but with all of them looking the same it's hard to tell if we're moving forward at all. Maybe, we're driving back and I wouldn't be able to tell, thud, thud. The tires probably drove over a rock. Blink, blink. Next to me, I can feel Mystery's soft, silky fur and I fail to resist the urge to pet him. Blink. It's so quiet, the radio's muted, and the stars above seem to be winking at me. Blink, blink, blink. I wonder what I'll see when I drift asleep. Blink. Everything's so soft and quiet and nothing and, and. Blink, blink, blink. I hear Lewis humming a familiar tune, maybe something from back when we were kids. My face lies against the glass, so cold, so quiet, so, so- So…

I fall asleep.

 

 

Lewis and I first met when we were kids, seven-year-olds, while on the swings. Up and down, up and down. Well, I only stayed in place. Lewis was going as high as he could, trying to reach for the stars, moon, planets, but I hadn't gotten how to propel myself up yet. I struggled as I wiggled my legs around hoping it would push me up, and woosh. Lewis was flying, not flying, soaring, not soaring, he was above and beyond. And, I stopped wriggling my legs and just watched him. Amazed, surprised, mesmerised. I couldn't tear my eyes off him, I could see the wonder in his eyes, and everything around stopped making noise. All I could hear was his laughter as he swung, and then he jumped, leaped, soared. For just the tiniest moment—despite me having a extensive understanding about physics—he really did fly, even if it was just for a second or even a fraction.

And, he landed in a perfect position, and I felt the urge to clap rush through my body like tidal waves. And, I did. My claps barely rung through the air as kids around were shouting and yelling, and playing whatever games they liked, but he heard them. His mouth opened up into an O and his eyes twinkled with merriment, and never had I ever felt so big in that moment. I felt like I mattered, like I changed something, like I did something important. It's a feeling I can never allow myself to forget because I've never felt so good, great, perfect before.

Lewis went up to me and asked,“Hey! My name's Lewis, what's yours? ”

Caught off-guard, I stuttered and squawked out my name in a high-pitched voice, and I could see his eyes glow in amusement along with his lips slightly perking up on one end. And this, this is the moment, second, instant I realised that, that I would fall hard for him. Even if we never talked again, even if I were to be suddenly subjected to bullying by his hands, I would crash and fall into love, hard. The sudden realisation dropped on me and I didn't know what to do. My brain nearly short-circuited, but then he waved his hands in front of my eyes to get my attention again, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

I was a seven-year-old and I was scared, I just fell in love in just a split second. And there he was, trying to catch my attention, I waved back slowly with a trembling little smile that felt a little too fake, a little too real. A little too close for comfort.

“Arthur, was it? Want to be friends?” he flashed a million dollar smile that felt like it set ablaze a wildfire in the forests and woods inside my heart.

I felt dizzy and a bit feverish on the forehead, and I simply said, “Sure,” and that was that, but it really wasn't just that.

I hoped that we wouldn't meet again, I knew if we meet again, all my plans that I'd categorised last year would fall into ashes and dust, and I'd be left in the dark. And, the sort of scary thing was that I wouldn't mind that, if it was someone else I would start distancing myself away from them, but if it was him… I would just blindly follow in an unknown future with him. And, the thought of that happening was terrifying, frightening, scary, horrifying, scary, unknown, a mystery, scary. I always associated the unknown with being scary, and I felt a rush of enjoyment at the thought of just living in the now. I was scared, exhilarated, a mess of emotions.

The next day was the first day coming back to school, and we were in the same class. I gripped my backpack's—it had Mario on the front that always weirdly smelt of oranges and mint whenever anyone with a working nose got close enough to it, which was every time I worn the thing—strap, and I knew that I, back when I was a seven-year-old, was absolutely, positively ruined for eternity. Fate was obviously going to make sure of it, despite how I placed observable data over just feelings and hopes. The teacher, Mrs. Nichols, just waved at me and told me to sit next to him with a big, wide smile on her face, I couldn't tell if it was forced or not.

“Hey. It's you, Arthur,” Lewis half-shouted, “Want to play on the playground after school?”

I just nodded and brought out my pencil and eraser, I was trying to act like I wasn't eager to be sitting next to him for the next couple of months, but he grinned back at me with the intensity of the sun's rays. And then, I thought that whatever happened would stick with me forever.

 

 

I wake up, but not in a cold sweat from a nightmare like the times before. I wake up feeling normal and that's better than I've felt in a long time. And, that really means something.

The trees are still stretching far and wide across the sides of the road, and Mystery's cuddling me while in my lap, I look at the moon and I can tell that we have five more minutes. Five more until darkness, five more until grass-green, moss-green, five more until the split. I look forward and spot Vivi whispering into Lewis's ear who's trying hard not to guffaw. I blink blearily and my heart aches from an old wound. Sigh. I can feel Mystery wake up.

We arrive, and when they look behind at us, their eyes widen ever so slightly and a ghost of a smile dances on my lips.

 

 

And, I shift. Not my body, but my perspective: everything seemingly like as if I was looking through a dirty window. My body, their body, starts confidently walking towards Lewis, I pound my fists at the glass but no cracks appear and my hands hurt. Lewis is in danger, I shout, scream, yell, but no matter what, no sound comes out. All I can hear is the rush of blood to my head, and I look away. I can't bear it, I can't stand it, I can't, I can't. I'm biting my lips, hoping for something to change, something different to happen, something different to wake up to.

Stars burst and black holes sink their teeth into me. All I can see is the abyss, a lonely desolate home, and the fragments of my brain come together like a jigsaw puzzle. I– They push Lewis down, a silver-tongued whisper, the slowest and fastest descent, the scream, flick of wispy tails, thud, the agony-pain, the burst of red wine. My eyes open. I'm back in the car scene.

 

 

But, I'm not in the car, I'm outside. I press my hands against my jeans and feel the box of cigarettes and lighter, and what am I supposed to do? What happened to the missing time, what happened to me? I look at the sky and the moon, forty-four minutes left. I pull a cigarette out bur my hands tremble as I try to grip it with my fingers, my nerves are shot.

I trash the unlit cigarette onto the ground as I step on it. Scurrying, I get the back and pull up up, the mess of everything nearly towers me. Gallahad is in his cage, scampering and squeaking with a worried flicker in their eye. Orange puffy vest, second pocket down, left-side, from the inside. Found it, I pop it open with haste, and shake nearly all of them out. Scrambling, I shakingly shove them all in my mouth, dry. Swallow. Oh, did I overdose. Oh, oh. I don't know if you can overdose from benzodiazepine pills alone. I, uh– What do I do. I throw the bottle away into a nearby bush so I don't see it anymore. I suppose it's muscle memory that I push my fingers into my throat, and—Hurk!

 

 

I had downed my pills, but the surge of panic didn't swell through my body yet. I slowly, like molasses, ambled towards my bedroom, and my sluggish body felt like crashing. And my body's floating like a feather drifting aimlessly in the soft summer breeze. Until it hits hard, my fingers are jammed in my mouth and— Oof! Urk– Ack. My head wad almost inside the toilet as I expelled everything. Heaving, my head swam in a current of thoughts and pain, the disgusting taste of bile made me wince.

Tired, I landed in a heap of sofa cushions on the living floor, how did I get here. I'm dazed and disoriented and the rough itch in my throat hurts. I stare at the top, and wonder what I'd be like if the chandelier suddenly feel and crushed my body into itty-bitty, tiny pieces and fragments of me. I sit back up and wonder what to do, if Mom saw me now she'd give me a stern, wary look to remind me of Dad. Not like I can ever forget about his hands: blood; bruise; purple; lavender; bluebells; stains; cries; hushed anger; black eye; angry, roaring shouts like black holes.

 

 

Vivi shouts, “I heard that thud! Come out right this second, Arthur! I mean it,” and I can hear Lewis's muffled agreement through the door.

Crap, I guess I left too many phonecalls to my voicemail, of course Vivi is going to come here. It doesn't help that Lewis tagged along too, thank goodness the apartment building forbids animals like cats and dogs or else I would be hearing Mystery's barking too, and that'd garner some attention from my neighbours, which I don't want to have at all (When I moved into the apartment, the two neighbours beside me on the right had a welcoming party, and sent me off with a green bean casserole dish after. I'm always flustered whenever they forced me into their home. Speaking of which, I'll be 'invited' in about a week. I wonder if I can come up with an acceptable excuse), so I hurry to door and slam it open, and Vivi punches me in the face, hard.

 

 

It was the middle of June with mosquitoes buzzing around as nuisances when I figured out Dad was abusing Mom. I was nine years old, and the seemingly perfect summer day looked like an antique, faded Polaroid photograph with a creepy shadow at the edges. My mom always got into a baking mood whenever she snapped. Stress-baking, she called it, so I never looked into it, her work never interested me. She was a history professor at some impressive university, but I never really cared for the past. I always assumed it was work-related.

Her baking spree yielded a magnificent tower of macarons and brownies fit for a king, but we definitely couldn't eat all that without some of them going bad. And the plum-mauve stain on stomach, juxtaposing with her fair skin, kept showing up whenever she whisked, it was on the shoulder. I knew they argued a lot, or well, I knew that my dad yelled a lot, I always assumed that she was fighting back. Maybe, she did, maybe she did fight back at the start, but got broken down over time like if a battering ram kept slamming and slamming into a locked door until it broke into pieces of what it used to be.

It was the same day my dad figured I was old enough to take some of her responsibilities. I was nine years old, and Dad came back home at near midnight, his necktie loosened and a faint vermilion flush on his cheeks. His hair was fussed about and his hand kept tensing every few seconds or so. It was nighttime, I was going to the fridge to get a warm cup of milk, and there he was. He was sitting on a chair downing a beer can, and I could see a crazed look in his eye. I felt terrified.

“Hey! What are you doing up still,” He growled, and I could see his eyes darken like the night.

“M- Milk,” I answered.

I felt his eyes glower onto my back as I opened the refrigerator. The cool air swept over my face and arm as I reached in for the jug. It was so heavy, but not as heavy as the weight of his stare. I was scared, and my arms legs itched with the want to run. I laid the jug on the counter, and pulled my cup. Being watched, I slowly, so slowly, poured it in and my neck burnt under the heat of everything.

 

 

My memory fogs up here like London fog, and I can't seem to blow it away at all. As old memories will often wont to do as you know. Snippets and scraps and fragments and shards are left. Perhaps, I spilt the milk. Maybe, I spilt words. Possibly, I spilt my guts to him. It all breaks away and the truth gets further and further down the rabbit's hole. I can't remember which one is true. Multiple choice: is it A; B; C; or D, none of the above. Ding-ding-ding, the right answer is—.

 

 

My body crashed onto the floor, head spinning and nausea filling to the brim. My hair a mess, my Dad held me down by the weight of his body and I could taste my blood from biting my tongue. Metal: it tastes like copper; iron; too close for comfort. Rough hands bruised me as they grabbed and pulled and pushed and jabbed. He started pummeling me into a pulp, a bloody, bloody pulp. I remember screaming; The hazy violet-wine squall that breaks off into branches and pathways and nooks and crannies. It felt like a bullet was shot into my kneecaps, and all my senses broke, went nuts. My legs were kicking aimlessly through the empty air, but I couldnt shake him off. My scalp burned and my hair was matted down from the blood, and all he said while he ruined my life—oh, he ruined more than just that: he ruined the stars; my nights; my heart; my eyes; the moon; the sounds; and the world—was, “Fag.”

I never managed to find out how he figured it out. It's simple, I never talked to him again, and I'm glad, because he was and always will be a piece of shit. I cut him out of my life.

 

 

Intermission over, the right answer is unknown, unknowable. Shards will only take you so far, fragments can only tell so much, and pieces? Pieces are vain, desperate liars. How worthless they're arranged, they speak of only the moment and everything else is disregarded. I hate, oh how I hate, the little, tiny, microscopic, infinitesimal pieces. Oh, how I hate myself.

 

 

“Ope— Oh my goodness! Arthur!”

“Ar— What the? Oh shit, Is he alright? Because, I'm pretty sure it's not a good sign for him to be bleeding.”

“I didn't knock you out, did I? Hey! Stay with us, you're not dying right? I was only trying to knock in the door.”

“Are you alright? Arthur, tell us. How many fingers am I holding up? Uh, what's your name, what's my name? What's today's date? Can you hear me?”

“Arthur, Arthur?”

“Arthur.”

“Come on, Arthur!”

 

 

“Arthur. What the heck, why are you just staring us like that! Creep,” Vivi sticks out her tongue like a little kid.

Lewis and I laugh a bit, and my heart lightens up like as if a giant weigh was taken off. But, I know what's next and my smile dies off. We all step outside, and the cave ominously towers all of us, fog drifting around like black silk dresses. There, a dreadful place, I don't want to go in, but we all walk in anyway. I can hear the tiny drip-drip-drip from a water dripling from a stalactite somewhere, the reeking smell of chrysanthemums in the corner of my mind flooding out, and we're plunged into the shadows. The haunting memory of everything paints the world black, and the keen rolling of black, white, orange, green, black, green, orange, black that wakes me up.

 

 

If the world ever made sense, as it rarely ever shows it, maybe then would this story be aligned. But, life, as we all know it, never goes as linear as we hope. Stars collide, space expands, the groaning churn of cogs remind us of the constant pacing of time. The mundane of life is forgotten, and the excitement ruins our memories as it shatters and breaks; the human mind is a delicate space. To wonder if I make it past the pushing, falling, death would be to wonder if everything that lives will eventually die.

The answer is yes, I will move on. Lewis will fade away like a worn Polaroid photo left to rot and collect dust, and Vivi will forget entirely about Lewis. But, for now, while I'm still stuck, let me have my duet with myself as I retell and retell and retell and snip and cut and stab and break my story into fragments. It's okay to not understand, rarely we humans understand each other as we mash our fragments, and run on sentences, and phrases, and poems together. But, in a way, it all looks beautiful, defining in its contradictory method.

 

 

I wobble, and sneer at the figure ahead of me. His back donned by the familiar black vest. Perhaps today he will die, except I know exactly what happens next. I push him off and maybe, being the complete broken human, I wanted to. (Possession or not.) It's a sickening delight to find myself as his last sight, even if striken with the bonfire of betrayal and disgust, and I can't find myself to care if she's down there. The scent of chrysanthemums flourish and the leaves blend with the thought of tiger lilies floating on the gale.


End file.
